Why the word 'prostitute' has to go

By Georgie Wolf

13 September 2018 — 12:23pm

I met recently with a few female business associates for lunch. You know how it goes: funky Melbourne café, extra-hot lattes, notebook PCs balanced on knees and handbags slung over chairs. We did the usual round of kisses and "how’s your husband?" while commuters walked to their office jobs.

Escort Georgie Wolf says the word 'prostitute' needs to go.

Did I mention we’re sex workers? You’d never know to look – that morning, like any other, we were just well-dressed ladies tapping on iPhones.

Then one friend checked the news. “Oh, my God,” she said. She waved her phone screen at us and we froze. The headline read, "Bizarre New Clue in Prostitute’s Branding Iron Torture Murder".

The word "prostitute" sounds like an unpleasant medical procedure: “Hey Bill, did ya see the Doc for your prostitute exam?” Our preferred term – "sex worker" – is boring by comparison, evoking scenes of blue-collar labour (perhaps with less clothes than your average tradie). But if we are serious about reducing violence against all women, we must move on from the word "prostitute", especially when discussing assault or murder.

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The "P-word" has been part of the English language since the 1500s. It was originally used as a verb, not a noun. To "prostitute" wasn’t a thing one did; it was something done to you. Accordingly, some folks assume that sex workers are "pimped out" by others.

Starting from this dubious premise, the word has accumulated bad connotations. If we asked any of those commuters, they'd likely say prostitution is synonymous with addiction, abuse and a weak moral compass.

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As my brunch companions would tell you, that’s not how it goes. Sex work is more-or-less legal in Australia and it’s overwhelmingly the domain of independent businesspeople.

It’s a job we choose, not one we are forced into; we’re entrepreneurs, dammit! The suggestion that we’re lower-class citizens makes me choke on my coffee.

We prefer the phrase "sex worker". It encourages the public to see our business as just another type of everyday labour. As Dr Brooke Magnanti – author of Diary of a London Call Girl – pointed out during her Q&A appearance in 2013: “People feel very uncomfortable because of the sex, but the real issues are the work.”

But there’s a darker reason why the word "prostitute" causes so much angst, one that has nothing to do with etymology and everything to do with violence against women. When the word "prostitute" rather than the phrase "sex worker" is used to describe a victim, it not only trivialises the crime but endangers everyone in my profession.

Though not everyone may get it at first glance, the word has connotations that dehumanise the woman who has been assaulted, or worse, killed.

"Prostitute" implies that she was hired out like an object for use by a client, not providing a legitimate service, and therefore has less right than other women to expect dignified treatment.

It’s a difficult concept to fathom, but one that has been borne out by research. The negative connotations of the "P-word" form part of what’s known as "stigma" – harsh social judgement reserved for society’s less accepted members.

In a November 2017 article published by the Journal of Sex Research, Cecilia Benoit, S. Mikael Jansson, Michaela Smith and Jackson Flagg write that stigmatisation "plays a role in fostering an environment where disrespect, devaluation, and even violence are acceptable responses". The negative messages attached to this demeaning word reduce how much we care about what has happened to the victim of violence. There are undertones of, "Well, she had it coming…"

When the "P-word" is used as a label, there’s increased risk that the blame for the offence will be laid on the victim, not the perpetrator. That victim-blaming narrative that has thankfully been debunked for other victims of violence still remains when a "prostitute" is targeted.

Put simply, all the women at that table know that when they read the line "prostitute assaulted" rather than "woman assaulted", readers conclude that because she is "prostituting" herself, violence against her is somehow validated.

Sex workers deserve the same respect as any other woman and the same entitlement to safety as we go about our lives. When sex workers become faceless stereotypes, perpetrators see us as soft targets, and the general public are more likely to view us as fair game. It puts every one of us in danger.

Gendered violence is a problem for which we must all take responsibility, and reducing violence against all women is an ongoing struggle in which even small changes in language can make a difference. It’s up to anyone reporting on violence against sex workers to resist the temptation to generate salacious interest of the kind the word "prostitute" still, unfortunately, carries. And it is up to consumers to question their own responses to the way violence against sex workers is reported.

When my friends and I don our jackets, exchange hugs, and part ways on the street, I want to know we are heading out to work in a society that treats us respectfully. It really is just a job like any other – and, as ordinary women, we deserve to be safe.